


do that thing

by acrobaticblood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Sleepy Draco, doting harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22972525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrobaticblood/pseuds/acrobaticblood
Summary: Draco likes getting his back scratched.Harry likes doing it for him.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 220





	do that thing

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy :)

There’s nothing that Harry Potter loves more than these little quiet hidden away moments after sex. He might love them even more than the sex itself.

It sounds baffling admitting it but that doesn’t make it any less true.

Sure he loves that first half a second when he slips into Draco’s yielding body beneath him, when everything is so terribly slick and swollen that he has to stop himself from plugging forwards before he loses it completely or those snippets before they both finish when every sensation is amplified from the building pleasure and his eyes are blurry from sweat and tears of frustration, but no matter how bone-deep and core-shaking those couple of seconds are, they don’t come close to the intensity of the affection that overflows him after they’re over.

They usually finish simultaneously, one a thrust or two before the other, but Harry is almost always the loud one, growling and groaning obscenely in Draco’s ear as he fills him, while Draco quiets down notably when he’s about to come, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, a deepening frown between his finely shaped eyebrows, until he finally lets it go with a soundless moan and a firm grip on whatever part of Harry’s body he can reach – his shoulders, his thigh, his nape – he digs his short nails in them and squeezes his eyes shut while the solace-like thrill comes over him. When it passes and Harry stops panting like a dog into the arch of Draco’s sweaty neck, he carefully slides out of him whist kissing the tiny spot between Draco’s brows that was creased only a second ago in hopes of soothing down the whimper that falls from his boyfriend’s lips.

He rolls over lazily picking up whoever’s wand is closest from the bedside table or summons them with a wandless Accio from wherever on the floor they ended up on and fixes them both up with a cleaning and freshening charm. Draco mumbles something that resembles a “Thanks”, but his cheek is already squished against the fluffy pillows, his eyelids already fluttering sleepily.

And that’s when Harry gets to experience it in its full glory.

The moment he would probably fight another war over if he was in danger of losing it.

A dozing pliant Draco Malfoy in his bed, _in his arms_ letting all his guards down, pausing all the bitchy snarkiness and the perpetual smart-mouthness even if just for a brief expanse of time. He is quiet and soft and _oh so human_ on Harry’s sheets, it makes Harry’s heart ache as it expands even more for this lovely creature resting peacefully beside him.

It’s such a cheesy sentiment that Draco would probably punch him in the face if he said it out loud, but thank Merlin he has all the freedom to mull that thought over in his head as much as he likes. And it seems that he likes to mull it _a lot_.

He props himself on an elbow next to Draco’s draped form and lets his hand smooth out Draco’s hair.

The half-conscious snoozing Draco is the only Draco that will let Harry do this. Well, this one and the one that’s had a shit work day at the Ministry and needs some extra loving but won’t actually properly ask for it, but will instead choose to drape himself over Harry on the too small sofa and silently beg for attention in the form of hair petting.

So Harry grabs the occasion, as rare as it is.

He slicks back all the long strands (these days mostly all of them are long and shiny, for he’s growing it out) and tucks all the short strayed ones behind his still flushed ear. Draco hums a little raspy thing, reaching out a feeble hand to touch Harry’s pecs in acknowledgement of the gesture. He lets it stay there, hot and flat on Harry’s skin, but still so gentle and pliant, still so uncharacteristically Draco, unlike every version of him Harry’s used to seeing on every day basis. It makes Harry still the movements of his fingers between the silky strands just to relish the fact that he is the one that gets to make Draco feel like this. Make him feel this safe, this calm and unworried.

“I adore you,” he can’t help but whisper into Draco’s temple, before laying a feather like kiss there.

Like with the hair caressing thing, this time is also the only time when Draco will let him make such cheesy declarations without objection. That’s not to say that Harry doesn’t make them all the time anyway, because of course he does, but they’re always met with a frown that says _That’s inexplicably inappropriate Potter, you do realize we’re at a highly respected Wizarding conference, don’t you_? But Harry just reacts with shrugging, unbothered by all the curious eyes following them and focuses instead on the deep sort of rosy blush that’s found its way onto Draco’s cheeks. 

Right now though, Draco just hums tiredly again. “Do that thing,” he croaks out, barely audible.

“What thing?” Harry teases, brushing a calloused thumb over the thin milky skin of Draco’s closed eyelid. It’s so pale and delicate, there’s a tiny net of aquamarine veins frolicking over it. 

“You know what thing,” Draco murmurs. His lips brush the middle of Harry’s palm in the lightest of motions and tingles travel from it and spread onto the rest of Harry’s body.

“I really don’t, love,” Harry says.

“Scratch my back, you git.”

Harry laughs, because of course he knew what thing Draco wanted, it’s the thing he always wants, but it’s too much fun watching him get all embarrassed and bashful about it, pushing his face further into the pillows to hide a what Harry can only imagine to be an all-encompassing red tint to his cheekbones.

“You are impossible,” Harry says through a chuckle.

“Yes well. It’s all part of my charm.”

And Harry really can’t really argue with that, so he obliges and moves the white cotton sheet down so that it covers just the slender curve of Draco’s bum and leaves the beautiful ivory skin of his back on display. He experimentally runs the tips of his fingers over it, just how he knows Draco likes it best – loose and slow – and immediately feels rewarded by the little blissful smile that appears on Draco’s lips. He looks so pleased and dazed as Harry lets his fingers wander over his spent muscles, his breaths silent and puffy. Harry’s rough finger pads trace the shape of his shoulder blades and follow the path of his spine, roaming over a couple of dark moles that embellish the white surface of his back. He touches the narrow line of the silvery scared tissue that’s peeking out from his front on one side and watches as Draco’s breath comes out more balanced, his back rising rhythmically as it does.

He keeps it up for good ten minutes, until the monotonous movements of his hand has made Draco completely relaxed and loosened up and him just as sleepy and satisfied, so he stops it and maneuvers Draco’s limp body to the side. He’s heavy, unconscious like this, but Harry still somehow manages to fit his chest to Draco’s back, his knees to the insides of Draco’s. He kisses his nape and wraps a protective hand around his waist and just as he’s about to drift of too, Draco shifts in his hold.

A flaccid arm comes to rest over Harry’s on his stomach, intertwining their fingers weakly. “’Night Harry,” Draco whispers dreamily.

“’Night love,” Harry says and holds him tighter, finally letting sleep take him.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!  
> this is my first drarry fic and i'd love to hear ur thoughts on it!
> 
> hit me up on tumblr i'm @whoofstar :)


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